You did WHAT???

We decided to meet up with Andy's sister and her family and go to Crystal Palace this weekend. It was great. We played ourselves out through the day and, because we bought the package deal, we got to order room service!!! The best part was the no cranky hungry kids at a restaurant waiting for food at 8 o'clock (if you ask Andy, he'll say the same thing, but switch 'kids' with 'mom').

Sunday was such a beautiful day, we thought that we would go for a trip to Hopewell Rocks. This was one of those times that I was glad we have a DVD in the van. Even though we had just stopped for lunch, the trip to the rocks started out with questions about when snacktime was. Instead of aggravating the situation with my standard answer of '45 minutes', we throw on Veggie Tales 'The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything'. They love that movie - there's a cute cover of the b52's 'Rock Lobster' at the end (it's called Rock Monster). Turns out you can watch 'Rock Monster' approximately 37 times between Dieppe and Hopewell Rocks - I'm performing it this weekend if anyone wants to catch the show.

So we arrive at our destination and get the kids (and snacks) all ready to go, and all ten of us head up the trail. We see birds and squirrels, we look out at the designated lookout spots, we leave enough yogurt raisins behind for each and every one of the local woodland creatures to try them out, and then...."PLAYGROUND!!!!!!!" It was decided by the under sevens that we were stopping to play and have sn- what's that smell? Aw man! It's Reilly. We're good right? Surely to goodness two families with three kids each (two of those kids still using diapers I might add) would be prepared for this. Well we had the pull-up, but that was it. Wipes and all other poop related items are back in the van. Normally, you would just go to the bathrooms and get some wet paper towels right? The park doesn't officially open for another couple weeks, so everything is locked up. No water or paper products in sight.

Wait a second...the snacks. There are drinks in the snack bag. Crap. It's apple juice. Oh well it's close enough. Even though Andy used as much of the used diaper as he could, he still needed something more to wipe with. Hey Reilly IS wearing socks and it's not really THAT cold out.... So there we were, cleaning our little boy's bottom with socks and apple juice.

You can do anything if you're AWESOOOOMMMEE

I went to the Starbucks drive-thru a little while ago with a request from my brother to get him 'somethin fancy'.

Starbucks Guy: Welcome to Starbucks! This is (his name). What can I get started for you today

Me: (I'm thinking that he just said the longest possible greeting in the history of drive-thrus) Hi! What do you have that's girly?

SG: (listing off several frou frou drinks) Are you looking for something hot or cold?

Me: Well I guess I'll start with a hot drink.

SG: AWESOME!! My favourite is (the one I got)

Me: Cool. I'll go with that then.

SG: AWESOME!!! Was there another drink?

Me: Um yes please. What about cold drinks? I think I would like something chocolaty

SG: AWESOME!! The (the one I got) is really good.

Me: That sounds good.

SG: AWESOME!! Was there anything else today?

Me: No. That will be it.

SG: AWESOME!!! Your total is (about $67.42). Please pull ahead.

I go up to the window and he chats with me while the drinks are getting ready and he takes the money. I give him a tip.

SG: AWESOME!! Thanks and enjoy your day!

Overall, I give THAT Starbucks experience an AWESOME.

I am completely insane

True story.
I thought it would be a great bonding experience to help out with Sophie's Sparks group this year. So, when I signed her up and heard that they were looking for people to help out on Wednesday nights, I jumped at the chance. Skip ahead a week and I have a list of 20 girls who are in my group. MY group. Maybe if I take longer to say it, it'll sink in. MYYYYYYY GROUP. Nope. I have been given the reins of a group of 20 5- and 6-year-old girls. ME. Man, I can't even decide what to get to drink at Starbucks (honest - I usually let the guy behind the counter decide. Which reminds me of another story - remind me to tell you about the "AWEsommmme" guy at Starbucks). Now I have to decide what to do to help these little women earn badges on a weekly basis!!! The last time I felt like this, I was walking out of the hospital with a baby. I wanted to go back and yell at the nurses - 'don't you know who I AM? I don't even know what I want to be when I grow up!' Now I have that feeling again - except this time, I'm responsible for 20.

Now, I am embarking on the biggest challenge of my Sparks career: The Sleepover. The last time one of my friends had a sleepover party for her daughter, I said she was dumb. I did my best to help her out and still said she was dumb. Last year, when Sophie's group did their sleepover, I dropped her off and came home. I am terrified of the sleepover. Mainly because I was the one pulling the crazy stunts at sleepovers when I was a kid ('member the time Carrie?). Now I have to suppress all of the underwear-freezing-fingers-in-the-water-face-doodling instincts that are still very much alive and well in me. And did I mention that they were 5 and 6?

Dear God. I need strength. And Patience. And 20 calm girls who ask to go to bed promptly at 8 o'clock and don't wake up until at least 7 the next morning.

I'll let ya know if His answer was 'yes'.

Scientific proof

My girls love to play together. As long as they are doing things that are acceptable in the others' view of what is right in the world. Needless to say, it isn't very long before an injustice is done and Supermom (that's me) is called to the scene of the crime. The evildoer is found out pretty easily when asked the question 'what's going on?' because Sophie has a look on her face that will clearly indicate the ridiculosity (it's a technical term - you wouldn't understand) of the situation. Let's call it the Ridiculometre. So Supermom swoops in and asks The Question and immediately looks at her Ridiculometre and assesses that it was most likely an inappropriate touching of the "special" Barbie, Bratz doll or, God forbid, Tigger (ah Tigger - the sleeping buddy since Sophie was a baby whom no one can come into contact with unless a specific permission asking tone is maintained for the entire length of the permission granting session.) But there was this one day....

Now my girls are very smart - they like to hide this fact from us at times - but they are smart. They have performed several experiments with regards to what will mom and dad lose their minds over. One day, they were playing in their dollhouse quite nicely when 'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY' and crying echoes throughout the house. Superdad takes it this time. The question is asked, but the Ridiculometre is the injured party, so there is only one logical conclusion - Bailey did it and it is at least slightly painful (Sophie likes to embellish. I have NO idea where she gets it from). So Superdad goes straight to work at calming Sophie so that he can understand her. Finally, she looks up at Daddy, points a weakened finger at her chest and exclaims 'She hit me Daddy! She hit me right in the kill spot!!' He had to leave the room.

Hitchhiker's Guide to the Two Year Old Boy

Man! When they tell you that little boys are different beasts all together, I never thought they actually meant BEAST!!

Those that know me, know that my son has a weak spot for a good game of "Dunk the Head in the Toilet". I have had to banish him from the play room because of repeated bathroom break ins. So there were only, in reality, two - but the last one ended up with 2 rolls of butt wipe IN the toilet, 5 soaked rolls BESIDE the toilet, and a soaking wet Reilly holding a toilet brush while tasting an eighth roll in front of the can. My guess is that he was trying to figure out exactly how much water was needed to make it possible to drink from a double-roll. Well now I see that his refusal to sit on the toilet means not that he doesn't want to potty train, he just has better plans for the TP.

The very next day I learned that tasting toilet tissue does not point to (as I had incorrectly assumed) an extra special dose of the terrible twos - it indicates a taste for the finer dishes of the world - like glass. Oh yes, he can't just leave mom all freaked out about leaving her son to play in the toilet, he has to make time-outs completely unsafe by chewing on some nearby mini lights. And then he has to top it all of with a dance and a big ole 'I loves yew Mooommyy' Am I a terrible person for thinking that he looks EXACTLY like his father when he does things like that?

Now today, he is Mr. Helpful. He even made sure to have on the proper 'helpful' attire - his new rubber boots. 'Ah got mah noo boots on an ah gonna help Mama'. Other helpers - beware - the Rylinator will under no circumstance allow anyone else to get in Mom's good graces. 'Yoo go! Ah'm helpin Mama!' (shove) 'NO! MY MAMA! AH'M Helpin Mama!' (knock on the head) 'NOOOOO I do it!' (slam door on Mama's hand). If this past year has been a test, this was definitely the bonus question. How many different kid-friendly adjectives can one woman come up with?

"reality" shows

The other night, I was watching television. Not very shocking, I know, but there I was peering into the lives of teenage conjoined twins on TLC. Now, I will admit - I am a sucker for these types of shows. Anything that sheds a little light on things I don't fully understand, I'll get into. For instance the 'Tree Man'. This was a man that literally looked like a tree. He had contracted a simple virus (HPV - it causes warts that you and I would simply burn off and call it a day), but his system was not strong enough to fight the warts that grew, and they took over his body - his arms and legs looking like tree roots extending from his body. I was completely taken by how this virus was able to overtake this man's body and what medical science could do to help him.

Well, while I was watching these teenage girls go about their day (I believe that they were going for their drivers' licence) I got an awful feeling in my heart. Are these shows really any different from the old-fashioned freak shows that one would see with a travelling circus? Sure, it's packaged a little better these days under the mask of 'science' and 'learning', but how is this different?

There are dozens of shows like this on TLC and Discovery Channel: ones about people with different types of dwarfism making their way in the world of 'big' people, ginormous families that are either two parents with 8 or more children, or two parents that can't seem to stop having babies - even after their elder children are starting families of their own and a cornucopia of 'shocking' stories about someones mystery disease or condition that somehow makes them different from the rest of the world.

Basically, to me, it boils down to a simple plot: look at me, I'm different. I am not 'normal'. Look at these guys! They're a lot smaller than you. This guys is completely covered in hair! This woman has a tumor that covers her whole face! I stopped having kids before my mother did! And we fall victim to the pretty package of 'realty show' every time!!

After a bit of soul searching, I have come to the conclusion that these programs ARE different. In a way, by giving an entire continent (or more) of people the opportunity to stare and have a glimpse into the lives of all different sorts of people, out of the ordinary conditions that could cause some to point a finger and ridicule become a little more common. Midgets become little PEOPLE, freaks become PEOPLE with shocking stories, and head cases become PEOPLE with mysterious (and now kinda cool) diagnoses. Thank you reality television for making these people cool to the freaks that once made fun of them.

My little lady

So I'm sitting here on a quiet snow day watching Bailey make herself 'pretty'. She has her little makeup kit out on her princess vanity and has promised me that she won't put too much lipstick on. After each new layer, she checks in with me to see if she's pretty. I reply with 'you were pretty before the makeup Bailey, but you sure do look fancy!' Her response? a sneaky little grin and a fresh new layer of glitter somewhere.
Now she's on to the nailpolish. I have decided to let her do it herself today and, surprisingly, she's quite good at it. I have just noticed that she has her entire bottom half of clothing on inside out and backwards - must be trying for two snow days in a row.
Throughout this whole Bailey Beautification process, she says 'uh-oh better jump around again' and off she goes to do the latest dance moves, while jumping up and down the hallway.
It is time for another check in the mirror...Yep the makeup is still on. Thicker and brighter than anyone I have ever seen (or will see for that matter). But that's Bailey, my girly girl, queen of all the princesses.
And now it's time for Bailey to make me pretty - Look out world, Princess Mommy is about to arrive.